


If I Follow Him, I But Follow Myself

by emmaliza



Category: Blake's 7, Kaldor City
Genre: Angst, Guilt, Hallucinations, Haunting, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Multi, Post-Gauda Prime, Technically?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23211583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: “Why are we headed to this place anyway?”“Weare not headed anywhere.Youare nothing but a rather irritating hallucination that I have to put up with, presumably as punishment for my sins.Iam headed to Kaldor City so I can hide from the Federation there, from the consequences ofyourrevolution.”More silence. Even in death, he's sure Blake wants to override him, to insist upon his own way, but instead he merely hums. “I hope you know what you're doing, Iago.”He grins. “Oh, don't I always?”
Relationships: Kerr Avon/Roj Blake, background Kaston Iago/Justina Kessel
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	If I Follow Him, I But Follow Myself

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Othello.
> 
> Also, fair warning, author has not actually heard the Kaldor City audios, because they're kind of tricky to get ahold of quickly/cheaply, and so is working from a lot of Internet Research. If I ever do get around to listening to them, I'll probably regret this all deeply.

“Up to your old tricks, Avon?”  
  
“Iago,” he murmurs instinctively. It would not do to go forgetting his alias in his own mind. Blake smiles at him, peering over the controls of his spacecraft with incorrigible nosiness.  
  
“I wouldn't have thought you were much of an Iago,” he says. “More of an Othello. Granted, you're a bit pale for the part, but...” he strokes the gash on his belly meaningfully.  
  
Silence falls between them then, until Blake sighs. “Why are we headed to this place anyway?”  
  
“ _We_ are not headed anywhere,” he is brusquely informed. “ _You_ are nothing but a rather irritating hallucination that I have to put up with, presumably as punishment for my sins. _I_ am headed to Kaldor City so I can hide from the Federation there, from the consequences of _your_ revolution.”  
  
More silence. Even in death, he's sure Blake wants to override him, to insist upon his own way, but instead he merely hums. “I hope you know what you're doing, Iago.”  
  
He grins. “Oh, don't I always?”

* * *

“That really wasn't necessary.”

“Necessary, no,” he says, standing over the Firstmaster's body. “But useful, and convenient. What, Blake?” he asks at Blake's furious look. “You've always known how ruthless I can be.”

“Yes, I know exactly how ruthless you can be.” There seems to be something unsaid after that sentence, but thankfully Blake lets it go. “Is this really what you want?” he asks. “To play glorified thug to overpaid mining tycoon? I never thought you the type to take anyone's orders.”

_Oh really?_ he thinks, but he doesn't say it out loud. He laughs. “I want his money, Blake,” he says. “I'm sorry if that offends your delicate sensibilities. But then again, I don't think your sensibilities matter very much anymore, do they?”  


* * *

“You're not in love with her.”

He sighs heavily. It would be just like Blake to crawl under his sheets not five minutes after Justina has left them, as entitled to Iago's private space as he is toward everything else he owns. But no, he keeps a respectful distance, perched in the chair in front of the mirror with a thoughtful look.

“I fail to see how that's any of your business, one way or another.” He sneers. “Although should I assume you disapprove?”

“Not in principle. I'm not a prude.” Somehow he doubts that. Certainly, Blake never seemed to be open for business while he knew him. “But I think she loves you, and I think you know that. I think you'll use her for whatever you can get from her, sex included, and then cast her aside when she's no longer convenient.”

He bristles. Yes, that is exactly what he was planning on doing, but somehow it sounds much worse when Blake says it. “What, don't you trust me?”

“Oh, with so many things, I trust you absolutely. But with an innocent woman's heart? Never.”

“Wise.” He pretends the insult doesn't sting. After all, Blake is quite right not to trust him. “But I wouldn't worry if I was you. I doubt she'll matter enough for me to do anything terrible to her.”

“Iago.”

He jumps. Blake's firey dark eyes bore into him, and eventually he has to look away. “If she thinks loving me means she can trust me, she's a damn fool,” he mutters. “She deserves everything she gets.”  


* * *

“It isn't that simple, you know.”

“Carnell seems to think he's capable of it,” he mutters distractedly. He is busy trying to foil the schemes of the Federation's former top psycho-strategist; Blake's ideological follies about freedom and liberty are hardly what he needs now. “I'm sure, if he wants to make a Tarenist of her, a Tarenist she will be.”

“Causes have a life of their own. Fighting for them changes you.” Oh yes, he knows that. Avon spent years fighting a cause, fighting Blake's cause, a cause he never even believed in. He remembers how it wore him into nothing. “If she does join the Tarenists, I doubt she'll remain completely under control.”

“Well, in that case, someone will simply have to kill her.”

Blake frowns, hand pressed tight against his belly. “You?”

“Perhaps.” Wouldn't that be a relief. He chuckles. “What's the matter, Blake? Afraid your rebellion, your struggle, your convictions, your death – that was also just part of someone's scheme?”

There's a pause. “Wouldn't you be?” Blake asks, a terribly sad look crossing his face. It is, for a man long dead, a very human moment.

Avon fights the urge to go comfort him. He never did that while Blake was alive and he's not going to start now.

“She isn't you,” he declares simply, resolutely. When he first heard the name, he did do a double take – but it's coincidence, nothing more. Obvious physical differences aside, even Blake wasn't fool enough to chose so transparent an alias.

“No, she isn't,” Blake agrees with him. “I wonder who here needs to be reminded of that.”  


* * *

“You saved her life.”

“I did as I was told.” He dismisses roughly, curtly. He doesn't want to talk about this with anyone, not even his own hallucination. Especially not with him. “Uvanov and Carnell still want their pawn, and so I had to go rescue her. Her shining knight.” He spits the words.

Blake smiles as if he is remembering something fondly. I should claw his other eye out. “You're not really the type to obey orders if they're not in your best interest.” _You lie, Blake, why do you always lie when you know I know you're lying?_ “Do you think you're better off with her alive?”

“No.” In truth, he doesn't know why Blayes' existence should affect his one way or another. But he does know he hates the fact she walks, talks and breathes. He hates the fact he saved her like that – revealing her treachery for her companions to see, and killing them while they turned on her. What did she do to deserve that? “But I'm not better off being shot by Uvanov either.” That's right, he has done all of this in his own self-interest. That's the one thing that's always guided him true.

Blake simply raises an eyebrow. _Come now, Avon, you can do better than that. We both know you could think of a dozen excuses to give Uvanov, if you really wanted her dead. Why lie when we both know you're lying?_

He snarls. “Don't worry, Blake. Her time will come.”  


* * *

“Do you really care that much what happens to Uvanov?”

“He's useful,” is a very true explanation, if not a complete one. “Once Carnell is out of the way, I will be his chief advisor. That will make me more rich and powerful than I have ever been. Do you expect me to give that up now?”

“If it's in your best interest, yes,” Blake smiles affectionately. “Anything you might earn from this is predicated upon not getting killed first.”

“Ah, so you've picked up on that, have you? That sense that everything is slowly going very, very wrong.” He is pleasantly surprised. He always thought Blake had rather an underdeveloped sense of danger. Then again, he must have changed somehow in the two years they were apart.

Blake looks rather frustrated with him. “I only exist in your head. Whatever you know, I know.”

“That seems very unlikely.” Logical, yes, but still unlikely. He can't believe even death would change Blake that much. He sighs. “So what do you think I should do?”

“Run. Take whatever you've gotten from Uvanov and fly somewhere safer. You'll be killed if you stay here.”

He frowns, unsettled. “You would never tell me that. If I'm in danger, so is everyone on this planet. And in that case, you would tell me to stay and fight for them, to sacrifice myself to save the innocent masses that I neither know nor give a damn about. That's what you would do.”

“Yes of course I would!” Blake snaps. “But you would tell me to run, to leave them to their fate, to save myself. You always did. So why aren't you running?”

Truth is, he doesn't know. It takes him a moment to even think of a reason. “I value my own loyalty.” He doesn't care for Uvanov, not really, but he can't bring himself to betray the man, not after... Blake gives him a curious look, and he laughs. “Besides, I hate to give up on a challenge. I can't leave until I know what Carnell is up to.”

“Ah, stubborn pride. I always thought that should be your fatal flaw.” It should be, but it isn't. Still, he does want to know what Carnell is doing. He says he's controlling Blayes. He hates the thought. But what could he be making her do...

_Oh,_ he thinks abruptly. Yes, they're all in very grave danger. What would Blayes be doing if not putting them all in danger?  


* * *

He's had reason to contemplate potential causes for his own death many times (most of them, when he was by Blake's side), but killer robots is a new one. No, that's not true – there was that time on Scorpio. He'd almost forgotten that, truth be told.

Still, the actual problem is remarkably easy to solve. Perhaps Carnell meant it to be. The political fallout is another matter. He sold Blayes out, of course – why shouldn't he? With Carnell gone, she's no further use to anyone. He doesn't want another rival for Uvanov's favour. He wants the woman gone. He wants to be free...

“We never played while we were on the Liberator, did we?”

He re-enters his quarters to see Blake at his table, chess board set and ready for a game. Did he leave it like that? “No, we didn't.” They played many games when they were on the Liberator, him and Blake, but not chess. “I never thought you'd be one for games of strategy.”

“Why not?” Blake asks. “You always knew how manipulative I could be.”

He smiles. “Yes, I did.” What infuriated him at the time, he can now recall almost affectionately. “But I always saw your traps coming from a mile off.”

“But you kept falling into them, didn't you?” Blake asks. “Like you once told me, the test isn't whether you're suspicious, it's whether you're caught.”

There's no answer to that, and so he takes his seat, prepared to play this silly game with a man long dead when he has much bigger problems to worry about. Didn't Blake always make whatever he was doing the most important thing in the galaxy?

“I'm afraid, as either a ghost or a hallucination, I will need you to move the pieces for me.”

“So you're useless without me? Unsurprising.” Ironically, he finds himself sitting on the white side, and so it's his move. He raises his hand above his knight, before he hesitates. “Why did you leave then?”

Blake raises his eyebrows. “Do you think I know?”

No, he's just a hallucination, he can know no more than Iago does. He's surprised how much he hates that thought – that there is a part of Blake's life he will never know, that died when he did. “No, but I would like an answer anyway.”

A sigh. “You said you wanted to be free of me.”

“But I'm not, am I? I murdered you and I am still not free of you. Perhaps that's justice.”

Blake's mouth quirks sadly at him. “I didn't blame you, you know.”

“Don't lie.”

“I'm not.” He says it like he means it, which is how Blake always told his lies. “It was my own fault, because I was foolish and paranoid, because I played that stupid trick – but I never meant to trick you, I trusted you–”

“Why?!” Avon roars, anger filling his breast. “Why would you trust me?! You knew who I was. You knew I was selfish, vengeful and amoral. You knew how I'd treat betrayal. Why would you ever trust someone like that–”

“Alright, yes I blame you!” Blake bursts out, cutting him off. “I blame you because I always trusted you, from the beginning, and you didn't trust me. I blame you because you'd rather kill me than have me not belong to you. I blame you because you were the only person alive I trusted, and you shot me in the gut and left me to die!”

Avon is stunned. Despite the fairness of Blake's words, they leave him feeling like he's the one who's been shot in the gut. _I did trust you. For all but those thirty seconds, I trusted you._ When that Federation woman came in, it all seemed so simple; of course Blake would never betray him, of course it was all one of his stupid schemes, weren't Blake's schemes always stupid?

But Blake was already dead. And so Avon just stood there as his crew were slaughtered around him, because the only thing in the universe that seemed to matter was gone...

_I should have died there. I should have died with him._ But he didn't, and he must live with that for the rest of his life, however long it may be.

Blake sits back in his chair with a look of joyless victory. “There. I believe you're the heartless bastard you always said you were,” he declares. “Now could you stop trying to prove it to me?”

He scowls. _Tricked again._ “Even now, you're trying to manipulate me.”

“Well, I'm dead. I cannot change. I cannot evolve. I can only decay.”

They fall silent again. His eyes drift back down to the chessboard, where they appear to have played half a game without him noticing.

“Are you going to kill her?”

“Who, Blayes?” Blake nods, and he shakes his head. “I don't see why I should bother. She's marked for death anyway. If she has any sense, she'll flee. If she doesn't... well, it's no skin of my back, either way.”

“What do you want, Iago?” Blake asks. “For her to run, or for her to come after you?”

He laughs. “Honestly, do you think I know?”

Blake smiles, then looks at the chessboard again. “Forget the game. Take the rest of the pieces away,” he says. Clutching his knight, Iago frowns in puzzlement. “Except that one. Clear the board, except for the knight.”

He has no idea what Blake's playing at, but he obeys orders. Avon used to do that, as loathe as he would be to admit it. “There,” Blake says, as a single white knight stands on the field. “You can go anywhere you want now. You're free, Avon.”

“Is that what I am, Blake?” he asks. “Your shining knight?”

“Oh, weren't you always?”

Without asking, Blake reaches over and takes the piece from his hand, starts moving it across the board. _Liar._ “See, you alone can reach any square here. But–” he makes it over to his side of the board, and then heads backward, “–you move in circles. And you end up back where you started.”

“By my king's side.” Avon smiles as Blake returns the knight to its rightful place. Of course, the king is long gone, and yet he could never be really. “So what you are telling me then is that I will never be free.”

“Oh, you could be free,” says Blake. “If you would let yourself be.”  


* * *

So then Blayes comes to kill him, and then that creature wearing Justina's skin comes to send him back, and so then he kills her, and then Carnell comes to laugh about how well-played he's been. In truth, Iago doesn't understand any of it.

Then it is a matter of waiting.

“I did tell you you ought to run.”

He laughs. If he is waiting to die, who else should be by his side? “You never would have,” he reminds Blake. “You would have given everything and anything to save these people. It was one of your more irritating habits.”

That makes Blake laugh in turn. He looks toward the floor, where Justina's corpse still lies. His lover. She loved him and he didn't love her; he killed her, and barely even thought twice about it. He was so sure it was the right thing, that she was already dead, subsumed by that creature, and that if he could only destroy it he could set everything right...

He was a fool.

“I murdered her. To save my own skin.” He looks up at Blake. “Don't you realise now, I'm not worth haunting?”

“No,” Blake declares with that simple-minded certainty he always loved and loathed. “Because I know who you are.”

"I killed Blayes."

"Yes, you did, didn't you?" Blake muses over this like it's an interesting philosophical quandary.

He swallows the bile in his throat. "She wasn't you."

"No, she wasn't, but she was close enough, wasn't she?" Blake asks. "Close enough you couldn't bear it. You either had to save her or kill her, but you couldn't just let her go on existing, barely knowing or caring who you were."

There's no point arguing. He sighs and looks around his room, somewhere that has never felt like home as the Liberator used to. “So what is it?” he asks, as though he realises there's no point fighting anymore, he'd still quite like an answer to the question. “Carnell said something was manipulating us all. So what is it?”

“It's called the Fendahl,” Blake tells him. “A gestalt entity from millions of years before our time. It's absorbing this entire planet. There's nothing you can do, Iago.”

_Avon. I was only ever Avon to you._ If Blake is merely his hallucination, that raises the question of how he knows all that. But Avon doesn't think about that for long. Instead, he thinks of Dorian, the last person who tried to absorb him into a gestalt entity. He thinks of Soolin, Tarrant, Dayna and Vila – Vila saved them all from Dorian, only for him to let them die with Blake on Gauda Prime. Four people who died because without Blake, the universe itself didn't seem to matter anymore...

He laughs. “Well, if I am absorbed into a gestalt entity, will I finally be free of you? Will you ever let me go?”

“Oh, Avon.” Blake leans in to kiss him, gently, on the lips. “You could never let me go.”


End file.
